


the past is happening quickly

by stuffy_j



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Reaper76 Week 2019, SEP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 00:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17838674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffy_j/pseuds/stuffy_j
Summary: Jack winced. Well, he could always trust Gabriel to tell it like it is, that was clear.“Who--” he coughed, choking down the lump in his throat that threatened to cut off all his air, “who made it?”Written for Reaper76 Week 2019, Day 1: We can be heroes/SEP.





	the past is happening quickly

“Hey. Jack. Hey.”

Jack groaned and opened his eyes. Immediately regretted it. Closed them again as fire swept up his leg and through his veins, the bright lights of the medbay seared into his retinas. 

The medbay. What? When did he get here?

“ _Jack_.” More insistent this time. His head throbbed rhythmically with the beeping of some machine in the background. He didn’t want to open his eyes again. He wanted to slip back into darkness, away from the lights and the noise and the pain. Away from the memories that had started creeping in -- the smoke-filled sky, the scream of bullets in the air. 

The realization that he’d tracked the Bastion units wrong. The sudden taste of copper in his mouth, the metallic smell of it blooming to mingle with ash and dirt.

A hand grabbed his, startling Jack out of his reverie. He opened his eyes again and let the light sear into him. Everything burned.

And then there was someone above him, their head blocking most of the light, a solar eclipse that left Jack blinking rapidly as their face resolved into Gabriel.

Oh, god, _Gabriel_. He was _okay_. Sure, there was a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head, but otherwise, he looked… okay. Alive. Like Jack was.

“What happened,” Jack tried to say, choked instead, his lungs seizing in his chest as he started to cough. He could taste copper in his mouth again. 

“Whoa,” Gabriel said, his face swimming in and out of Jack’s vision, “Calm down, just breathe.” He squeezed Jack’s hand in his. It took everything Jack had to squeeze back, to focus on that sensation -- Gabriel’s hand in his, callused palm warm and solid and strong. Not limp. Not gone. He drew in a shuddering breath, pushed it back out again. There was still fire rushing through his veins, but he could handle it. Gabriel helped push him up into a sitting position. Jack silently mourned the loss of the warmth of Gabriel’s hand in his when he pulled away.

He tried again. “What happened?” he asked, and his voice came out shredded, nearly inaudible. 

Gabriel picked up a glass that was sitting on a small table next to the bed he was laying on, held it up to Jack’s mouth carefully. Jack took the hint and sipped. The water was too cold and too hot at the same time, sliding down the inside of his throat and pooling in his stomach, like Jack was empty, like he was nothing but hollow space filled with fire. A void where a person should be.

“Mission parameters were fulfilled,” Gabriel said, setting the cup back down, and Jack finally saw the IV tubing attached to him, the rumpled sheets of the medbay bed next to Jack’s, the ashen look to Gabriel’s face. The hastily-scrubbed patches of dried blood on his face. “But it wasn’t pretty. Clean up was a nightmare, and they brought us all back here to get patched up and have some emergency transfusions. More chemical shit, I’m not exactly sure.” He wasn’t looking at Jack now. Like he was disgusted. “You were barely _breathing_ when we managed to extract you, Jack, what the fuck!”

Jack closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t look at Gabriel, at the way Gabriel wasn’t looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words scraping his throat. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, no shit.” 

Jack winced. Well, he could always trust Gabriel to tell it like it is, that was clear. 

“Who--” he coughed, choking down the lump in his throat that threatened to cut off all his air, “who made it?”

Gabriel sighed. “You. Me. All of Delta and Sierra companies. Mahoney’s in surgery right now, I guess their condition is up in the air, so we’ll see. Both Nunez and Holliday had to have emergency surgeries, but I heard they were stabilized.”

Names tumbled through Jack’s head, taking stock of who had gone out on the mission. Who hadn’t come back. “What about--”

“Just you.” Gabriel cut him off.

Jack felt a piece of himself shatter.

He clenched his fists in his lap, and the fire in his veins flared again. Not hot enough. He wanted to burn from the inside out, to immolate in this bed right here and now, leaving nothing but ashes behind. Replace his breaths with someone else’s. With Huang’s, or Driesman’s. Someone who didn’t fuck up and get their whole squad killed.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “They should’ve just left me out on the field.”

“Shut up, Jack.”

“No!” Jack exploded, and Gabriel was looking at him again, finally, confusion on his face, and Jack hated him for a moment. Hated that Gabriel apparently couldn’t _see_. The most brilliant tactical mind Jack had ever met, and Gabriel couldn’t fucking _get this_. “I’m a liability, Gabe. The first time I’m given leadership of a squad, and what happens? I get them all killed because I fucked up! We’re supposed to be the best of the best. We’re supposed to be _heroes_.” He took a shuddering breath, a headache thundering through his skull, whipping the flames higher and higher inside of him. Maybe he would blaze out, right here in front of Gabriel. His fingers felt like gnarled claws in his lap, curling into the bedsheets, nearly tearing them to shreds. Jack closed his eyes again, trembling. “How can I be trusted to protect others if all I do is get people killed? I’m not a hero, Gabe. I don’t deserve to be.”

Gabriel’s hand curled around one of his suddenly, palm warm and familiar and strong around his own, and Jack opened his eyes in surprise, looking over at his friend. “Jack,” Gabriel said, his eyes like a roiling storm building in the distance, “Shut the _fuck_ up. Yeah, you fucked up today. Fucked up big time. But that doesn’t mean you get to develop a guilt complex about it; we don’t have any fucking time for that. We’re _soldiers_. We knew what we were in for when we signed up. The possible consequences.” His other hand curled around Jack’s as well, encasing him in Gabriel’s sure grip. “We don’t have to be heroes. We just have to get the job done. And believe me when I tell you, we’re stronger together. So don’t give me any bullshit about ‘not belonging here’ or whatever. We’re gonna win this goddamn war, and we’re gonna win it however we can. After that, you can worry about whether or not you’re a hero, got it?”

Jack stared at Gabriel, mouth hanging open slightly as his battered mind tried to take it all in. Gabriel stared back at him, resolute. His hands clasped Jack’s tighter, until Jack felt his fist loosen, felt his fingers intertwine with Gabriel’s. The guilt was still there, coating the back of his throat, the fire licking up the insides of his body, but… Gabriel was right. 

_I’m not a hero,_ Jack thought, strangely dizzy, _but maybe I can be one. For him._

“Got it, Jack?” Gabriel asked again, and Jack blinked, trying to refocus. 

“Y-yeah,” he said shakily, mustering up a small smile. A smile just for Gabe. “Yeah, I got it. Let’s win a war.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the poem, "Snow on the Desert," by Agha Shahid Ali.
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@stuffy_jj](https://twitter.com/stuffy_jj).


End file.
